Skyfire (25 page)
Authors: Doug Vossen
RONAK
“Slow and deliberate, right?” said Karl. “Don’t kick the doors in. Use common sense and go in quietly unless we can’t. I don’t want to draw unneeded attention. Order will be me, Trent, Jack, and Harrison. Ron and the chick will stay out here and cover our backs. Let’s get to it.”
Everyone nodded. Callie seemed irritated that Karl didn’t know her name.
“OK, let’s line up. Start with the men’s room.”
I am pleased to see that this group of warriors is cohesive. This would be significantly more challenging were they not.
The group lined up and entered the first bathroom. They moved quickly and quietly from one end of the room to the other, deliberately scanning their sectors of fire, weapons at the ready. Karl checked down the row of stalls. Trent faced right, toward the stalls, while Jack covered to the left. All three swept to the outside corners of the short, rectangular room. Harrison pulled rear security as a redundancy to Ronak and Callie outside.
“Clear!” said Karl.
“Clear!” said everyone else, their voices echoing in unison.
How deliberate. This pleases me. They are organized and effective despite being almost a millenium behind in every way.
The group repeated this process for the women’s room. Trent stepped over an elderly woman’s corpse and began rifling through her purse.
“Dude, what’re you doing?” said Jack.
Trent pulled out a pack of Parliament 100s. “Whatever, she ain’t gonna need it. Don’t judge me.”
“Good for you. You can act like a 73 year-old yenta now.”
Trent shifted into his most nasal and annoying voice. “My grandson David needs to find a nice Jewish girl! I wish he would ask the cantor’s daughter out on a date at temple! Meh!”
“Them motherfuckers is weird with all their curls and shit,” said Harrison, giggling.
“See what you started, dude? Harrison, they don’t all have that!” Jack said.
Trent found it hard to stop what he’d started. “My David is such a sweet boy!”
Karl couldn’t resist joining the fun, especially knowing it would irritate Jack. “Goddamn it, Esther! Our grandson is a fucking neck-beard! No one will ever want to fuck him!”
“Oh Mitchel, stop it!” said Trent. “He’s never raised a hand to anyone! Such a sweet and gentle boy! Any girl would be lucky to have him!”
“He’s not a boy, he’s 37 years old and can’t hold a job for shit! All he does is complain about how dry the air is everywhere! I was at the Chosin fucking Reservoir in 1950! He’s a pussy faggot!”
“Mitchel Brownstein, language!”
Karl raised the back of his hand towards Trent’s face. “Goddamn it, Esther, if I have to-”
“Guys, Jesus Christ!” said Jack, clearly pissed. “Can we focus on the task at hand please?”
Karl was grinning ear to ear, ever-ready to stir that pot of shit.
They are so young as a species. I suppose the only release valve they have is crude humor.
The group exited the women’s room, Trent thirteen old-lady cigarettes richer.
“Come on,” Karl said. “Only a few hundred rooms left to check out.”
“Hey guys, what if we find more survivors?” asked Callie. “What do we do then? This is a big place. There has to be more than a handful of people alive.”
The female brings up a valid point, one the others choose to ignore. I am fascinated to see how they would handle such a difficult decision.
Callie didn’t look pleased that she’d been ignored.
Harrison lightly touched her shoulder, startlingher
.
“Um, sorry about that.” He leaned in closer. “Hey, these are good guys. They’ll do whatever they can to help people. They just don’t know the answer to your question right now. Trust me. When it counts, these guys will figure something out. I’ve worked with Major Rugerman a long time, and that guy Trent in the Yankee hat seems on top of his shit too.”
Ronak was fascinated by human dynamics. For hundreds of years, his psyche had been thrust into a technologically aided soup of consciousness, one that had brought his society to intergalactic greatness, but he’d always had the nagging feeling that something was missing.
That young man a fraction of my age sensed the female’s emotional state from one simple question. He doesn’t seem to rely on humor as much as his compatriots. THAT is what I am missing. It’s what ALL my people are missing. Why did we choose accelerated development in lieu of balance and a slower, more deliberate progression? I can’t even remember how unification happened so quickly. It seemed like such a gradual, insidious process.
“
Thanks, man. What’s your name?” asked Callie.
“Brendan. And don’t worry. Soon all of this will seem normal.”
“I’m not sure I want that.”
“I know. Nobody does. Soon, the only people you will ever truly be comfortable with are those who understand. Even if people don’t talk about it, it’s there forever.”
This one is introspective indeed. This I did not expect.
The annex to the children’s lunchroom was clear. Jack nodded down the hallway. The main cafeteria used for school trips was twenty meters away, adjacent to the food court and across from a locked elevator machine room. The flooring was a light vinyl tile intended for easy cleanup.
By The Veil. This… This is barbaric.
The group looked around the cafeteria in awe. Dead children and adults were everywhere. Some were sprawled on the floor, face down. Some lay face up, their red, membrane-covered eyes facing the ceiling. Ronak swiped the side of his leg again, producing another ball of illumination. It darted to the center of the lunch room. Its light eclipsed the Surefires, revealing the extent of the horror.
Scanning for life signs…
“Oh my god, no.” Callie turned away. “Guys, I’ll watch this door. I can’t fucking do this right now. Adults are one thing. This is just too much.” Callie was visibly nauseous.
Trent saw this and guided her back to the door. “It’s going to be fine. Just stay behind this wall and keep a look out in both directions down the hall.”
I vividly remember the first dead body I saw in the context of violence. I felt detached, like it wasn’t even real.
Karl pointed out the obvious. “OK guys, these children and their teachers look exactly the same as the people who are probably trying to break down those doors from the subway right now.” He chuckled nervously. “Shit, I know. This is easily the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’m a fucking operator. Let’s just take a sweep of the room and make sure none of these kids are alive before we end up having to do something we don’t want to do.”
Everyone stood silently, absorbing the horror of eviscerated children, imagining the brutal final moments of their young lives.
“Hey Ron, can you move that light over here to the corner?” said Karl.
I am pleasantly surprised with how casual they are when they converse with me. Not only am I of a completely different biology and geographical frame of reference, but I have exposed them to many new pieces of information they need to consider as variables. Even with all their unevolved faults, there is a spark of resilience in humanity that I have not seen in any species in centuries.
“Jack, come here and help me, man,” said Karl.
“You got it.” Jack walked over to the corner. He did a double take when Ronak’s sphere illuminated this little section of the carnage.
The two old friends began digging through the pile of bodies. The stench of decay filled their nostrils as they lifted each tiny body off the one underneath. The bodies had been there for days. Flies buzzed around the room; if four-day old peanut butter and jelly sandwiches didn’t satisfy their hunger, rotting flesh would. The world had become nothing but a fly’s buffet of high-end, decomposing nutrition.
“Oh god.” Jack turned and tried to hold in a dry heave. It was a valiant effort, but he peppered the ground with everything he couldn’t choke down. “This one looks like a younger version of my mom.” A pregnant woman lay at the bottom of the pile. Her abdomen was covered in a blood-drenched maternity dress. “Dude, I’m about to tap out. This is too fucking much. Let’s just move. There’s nothing here that looks like a middle-aged Indian dude.”
This is not a priority, but I sense two untouched life signs. Should I inform my companions? Ordinarily, I would say no; additional responsibility would slow us down. Something is making me… FEEL… that that would be wrong. I can rationalize this when I connect to the Nexus. I can tell them that alerting my companions to the life signs was intended as a means of building good will in order to get the terrans to perform as required to achieve our goals. Not a complete lie. Should I do it? They’ll know I am not telling the whole truth regardless. Dishonesty is impossible. Am I willing to have my judgment questioned again? I have been a Legate for centuries. If they do not believe I have the ability to operate independently, they can relieve me of duty. What’s right is right. I will likely lose my status and position when I return regardless of this decision; I made first contact too rapidly.
“One moment,” said Ronak. “Let us move into the back corner, behind the partition separating the refuse bins from the remainder of the room. I sense two terran children still alive in a stainless steel cabinet containing cleaning materials.”
“Fuck, dude. You can just DO that? What the hell? Why make us go through that?” Jack was pissed.
These people cannot peer into my mind to see what I can and cannot do. It would serve me well to remember this going forward. They act as Æthereans did centuries ago. Many believe that our connectivity was the single greatest achievement of our species. Others believe it stifled creativity in the interest of speed. It’s so quiet here. I am at peace.
“My apologies. I often take the technology I’m used to for granted.”
On a variety of levels …
“Whatever,” Jack snapped. “Ronak, can you use that thing while we search to expedite this process?”
“If there are terran life signs within a radius of fifteen of your meters I will inform you. Structural interference may cause the radius to decrease slightly at times, but the technology is quite sound.”
“Fuck your mother, Ron,” Karl said.
Trent and Harrison were at the stainless steel cabinet. “Ya’ll! We got two live ones!” yelled Harrison. Twin boys stared at Trent and Harrison in complete silence and fear. They could not have been older than nine, but it was difficult to tell. Both children were waifish-skinny and extremely pale, with light blonde hair.
Trent immediately began checking them for wounds. One thing he’d learned very early in his military career was that after any action, it was the leadership’s responsibility to deliberately check all involved for wounds. This meant both a visual and hands-on check. If his NCOs in Iraq hadn’t followed this procedure, some of his soldiers would not have even realized they were about to be the Army’s newest recipient of a purple and gold piece of plastic; AKA free car registration in at least half the bible-belt states. Adrenaline is a strange thing; it can make people function long after they shouldn’t be able to.
“Dirty, but they’ll live.” Trent wiped away the crusted dirt and blood as best he could with the sleeve of his hoodie. Harrison did the same using his ACU uniform.
I am impressed by their ability to adjust their mindset so readily. Captain Hughes… Trent… seems to genuinely care for the well-being of these children.
Karl was still irritated. “Fucking fantastic Trent. Can you please get the children-of-the-goddamn-corn to your new goth girlfriend in the hallway so we can find this Punjab fuck and get the hell out of here?”
“Sluta upp med det där!” said one of the twins.
“The fuck you just say?” Karl asked in the least sympathetic way imaginable. He could be a dick when he was in mission-mode.
“Sir, they’re little kids and they’re scared,” said Harrison in his Georgia drawl. Karl glared back. Harrison walked away, not wanting to further provoke him.
They are not from New York City.
“They are speaking a language native to a region known as Scandinavia. It is called Swedish. They asked you to stop, Mr. Hughes.”
“Great, now can you please get Odin and Loki to the fucking queen-of-the-damned in the hallway so we can finish our job?” said Karl.
CALLIE
Trent ran out to the hallway with Harrison. Each held a young boy.
Oh my god, these poor kids.
Callie saw just the entrance to the room, and could only imagine the horror inside.
I can’t believe they had to watch this happen. I can’t believe they SURVIVED. I will never complain about Mr. O’Hara again. Why do I even call him Mr. O’Hara when I think about him? He’s human garbage, undeserving of a name.
“
Callie, look,” Trent looked at her desperately. “I know this has been-”
Look at him. He cares so much. About everything. No wonder this guy drinks like a fish.
“Dude, look at me. I got this and any others you find,” Callie said.
Trent seemed distracted and very agitated.
“HUGHES. STOP FOR A SECOND.”
Trent looked Callie in the eyes. Callie grabbed the back of his neck with her fingers and placed her thumbs under his ears. “Look at me.”
Trent obeyed, as if he were a cat lifted by the scruff of his neck. “You got what matters. Leave the rest to me. I promise I won’t fuck you over. Seriously, don’t even talk. I got you, dude.”
“You do?” said Trent. “Because I swear to Christ, if I fail with them like I did with Jessica…” Trent choked back tears.
“Yes. And you didn’t fail. WE didn’t fail. But we can talk about that later. Keep going.”
“Thank you.” Trent looked at Callie for a brief moment, a mix of gratitude, confusion, and embarrassment on his face.
Karl and Jack came out of the room with Ronak. Trent felt awkward when he saw them. The others didn’t seem to give a shit; they were still distracted by thoughts of the slaughter inside the room.
Karl, in his element, began barking orders. It was a sight to behold - his enthusiasm, quick thinking and split-second organization. Most people in normal life think this sort of gusto makes you look crazy, but in the right situation, it seemed to Callie a definite positive.
“This is the plan,” said Karl. “We’re still in the goddamn basement. At this point, I think we should hedge our bets. The offices are located on everything above the fourth floor, right?” Karl glanced in Trent’s direction.
“Yeah,” Trent said.
The hardest part about coordinating this operation was not only that Jack, Trent, and Karl were all officers, but that they were all great friends. Jack may have been in charge, but Karl was more tactically experienced. Trent wasn’t even in the Army anymore. The mission resembled friends trying to get something done rather than a typical combat patrol.
“So we keep moving up and find a spot on the first floor to consolidate any survivors we find,” said Karl.
But what if there are too many survivors and we can’t get them back on the helicopter? Multiple trips? Jamming people in? What then? Just trust what Brendan said. They got this. It’s scary as shit though that this shooting-from-the-hip is common in these situations, with these kind of people. These are the ones who supposedly protect us and our interests overseas. The mystique of the military badass is completely gone. They are people, just like us. On all sides. The US and the rest of the world is unknowingly entrusting its future to a drunk, an insecure alpha-male type, and a dude too passive for his own good.
“Makes sense,” said Jack. “That subway tunnel is a suicide mission for exfil, not to mention how much of a shitshow the park is in the upper sixties right now.”
A garbled voice came over Jack’s MBITR radio, presumably from the bird overhead. The transmission was difficult to hear because they were still in the basement.
“Anyone get that?” Karl asked.
“Sounds worse than a subway conductor’s PA system,” said Trent. “Let’s walk upstairs, figure out a casualty collection point and see if we can’t raise Chief Rudich. Sound good?”
“Agreed,” said Karl.
Jack nodded.
The group proceeded to a huge open area spanning three floors. A giant futuristic egg sat in the center, reaching up to the full height of the structure. It held the dome-shaped theater that displayed shows about space to school children.
“The main entry lobby,” Trent said.
“What about it?” asked Karl.
“Find a little nook or cranny, a public bathroom - even a goddamn janitors’ closet. That’s a pretty defensible CCP (Casualty Collection Point) and it’s centrally located. We leave Callie down here with you and Harrison and the two of us take Stretch-Fucking-Armstrong to help us find that Indian asshole. I say we run up the stairwells to the top floor and start searching downward, crazy infected asshole-dependent, of course. Offices and laboratories hedge our bets far more than going from the ground up. Right?”
“Cool with everything except me at the CCP. Jackie, you got babysitting duty.”
“Fine,” said Jack.
I don’t know whether to take him as a huge pussy or a dude who’s man enough to not have a huge ego.
The group did a quick sweep of the Cullman Hall of the Universe’s ground floor, the two small children in tow. They found more carnage and no signs of life.
As they rounded the bend opposite the giant egg, Trent looked sad. He stared at the large asteroid pieces and other miscellaneous space debris available to view and touch. “When I was a little kid I came here with my dad, my grandma, and my elementary school. Every single time I used to get this huge charge of adrenaline because I had just touched something that had once been in outer space. I thought that was the most awesome thing ever. What the fuck happened?”
No one answered. They continued on.
I’m terrified now. What if the entire planet looks like this? Why would we do this to each other? Why would we be susceptible to acting this way? Is it a mental toughness thing? How is almost everyone influenced into acting so blindly violent? Is it in our nature? Why doesn’t it affect everyone right away? Is this natural? Fuck no! Wait, shit. Everything is natural, down to the most awful things on this planet. Even the nuclear waste we throw away is all 100% natural. The Texas-sized island of plastic decomposing into digestible morsels north of Hawaii is all natural. Off-shore oil drilling – natural. We use stuff from nature and process it into all the crap we use daily. It all boils down to us having hands and big enough brains to manipulate our external environment. EVERYTHING is nature, and THIS is what our dumb asses decide to do with it. Fuck, I guess if I were some advanced being I’d think we deserved elimination too. We humans have GOT to get our shit together. Pot brownies are the fucking worst. FOCUS BITCH!
The Hall of the Universe was dimly lit through its glass façade by the reflection of the moon and the pulsing flashes of the phenomenon. It was eerily quiet. The putrid smell hung in the air. The low-level pulsing was like a strobe light flashing over the gore.
Jack noticed the escalators opposite the asteroid and space debris exhibit. “Up here, guys. This should bring us to the first level. We can find our spot and begin our top-down search.”
“Roger, sir,” said Harrison, as if it were the only thing he had the energy to say. He began helping Jack and Trent move the cluster of bodies piled at the base of the escalator. The bodies were heavy, literal dead weight. It was a great deal of work. It was also emotionally taxing. The only way Harrison would be able to pull through this experience was to make himself numb. It was something with which he and the rest of the soldiers were quite familiar.
Callie knelt down to continue wiping the crusted blood and dirt from the twins’ faces. She pointed to herself. “I’m Callie. What are your names?”
The children said nothing.
“It’s OK guys,” said Callie. “You tell me anything you want whenever you’re ready. Just know that you’re safe now and we’re going to keep you safe. Those guys over there are professionals. They know exactly what they’re doing and I trust them completely.”
Here we go with the bullshit.
“Hey shit-dick, not like that! Give me that black guy’s fucking foot. No, not that black guy! The one with the hole in his stupid chest!” chided Trent.
“This one?” asked Jack.
“Yeah, now throw that Chinese guy over the side into the gift shop.”
They were about eight steps up the escalator, trying to clear victims of an ugly trampling from their path.
“Gift shop?” chimed Karl. “Fuckin’ sweet! I’m going to get some goddamn space ice cream!”
Seriously, dude? How can you think about space ice cream at a time like this? It’s complete garbage anyway.
“Karl, please don’t talk about dumb shit when I’m trying to play ‘guess the dead black guy’ with this idiot over here,” said Jack, gesturing toward Trent.
“Hey children-of-the-corn, you like space ice cream, right?” asked Karl.
“Sir, I don’t think they understand you,” said Harrison. He was pulling security toward the back of the giant glass wall housing the Planetarium.
“Nonsense, every kid understands unhealthy snacks. Hold on a second.” Karl walked around the escalator. He appeared thirty seconds later holding several silver foil packets labeled ‘ASTRONAUT ICE CREAM.’ They were all Neapolitan flavored. “Here you go, you creepy Swedish fucks. Have some diabetes in a goddamn bag. It’s the American way! Shit, I bet your guys’ mom was hot as fuck. Like Kate Upton mixed with a young Sandra Day O’Connor...”
The fuck? Sandra Day O’Connor? Ruth Bader Ginsberg was WAY hotter. Ass for DAYS.
The children lunged forward, nearly attacking Karl. They grabbed the ice cream and tore through each bag, shoving the sugary garbage into their mouths. It was so animalistic and sad that it reminded the group just how much these two children had endured.
These poor kids. If there is one thing that gets me, it’s hungry children. My mom was too much of a neglectful, boozed-up cunt to realize when I was hungry. I was a fucking inconvenience to her. These kids probably had a loving family and never knew any hardships before this disaster. Fuck, they came all the way over from… wherever… to New York, and then out of nowhere, during a school trip … I can’t think about it too hard or I’m going to have a fucking breakdown.
“Shit guys, I’m sorry!” said Karl. “I didn’t mean to say I would fuck your mom! I mean, I probably would, but whatever! It’s a compliment!”
This man is a fucking imbecile.
One of the children looked up from his feast. “Torstig!”
The group looked at each other.
“The young terrans require hydrogen and oxygen in liquid form,” said Ronak.
“Dude, just say they’re thirsty,” said Karl, annoyed.
“Karl, holy fuck. You’re killing me,” Trent yelled as he maneuvered the pile of dead bodies. “Hey Ron! Where did you say you were from?”
“My planet of origin is approximately thirty-two thousand light years from our present location.”
“GODDAMN DUDE!” said Trent. “YOUR ENGLISH IS FUCKING AWESOME!”
“I get it, man,” said Karl.
“No, dude. You fucking DON’T. You’re an asshole. We’ve been friends for a long time, but this part of you is utter bullshit. Remember that time in Europe with those dumb bitches from Venezuela? Same shit! These people are children, man! You never got that, even in Iraq. Who cares where they’re from? Every kid deserves to have a carefree childhood. So no, you frat-boy faggot, privileged-as-fuck asshole. You DON’T understand. Stop being a dick and pull fucking security. Realize you’re not even a little bit as cool or important as you think you are.” Trent was reaching his emotional limit.
“May I please just have some water?” said the other twin in perfect English.
Karl and Trent were staring at each other with either love or hate; it was a thin line with this crop of crazy idiots. You can’t choose your family, and you can’t choose your OTHER family. These people were as close as family, friends, even significant others. It was a special relationship they would share for the rest of their lives, for better or worse.
Are these two children going to fight or can we save the fucking universe now?
“Hey idiots, shit-can it for five fucking seconds,” said Jack. “We got a job to do. Trent, take that goddamn Spanish family off the top of the escalator so we can move on. Karl, please. A thousand times, please. Give your one-quart canteen to the children of the damned and alleviate my insanity for eight seconds and just don’t talk.”
“Dude, what the f-”
“Shut the fuck up, Karl! I will fucking knock you out in the middle of the apocalypse! Test me, motherfucker! You want to go round and round, you little shit? I will Harvey-Keitel-in-a-Tarantino-movie you into the fetal position, you shit-talking pussy! Do it! FUCKING TRY, I DARE YOU!”
Wow. Hey, Jack. What’s up?
Karl blew it off like it didn’t mean anything, but Jack had put him in his place. Most impressive about this display was that Jack never spoke in such a manner. When he did, it carried much more weight. “Gangway for more dead brown people!” Trent was back to making morbid jokes, eight seconds after yelling at his good friend.
Wow, I don’t even know what to say. I didn’t think I’d ever find this level of crazy outside myself. These people keep going somehow. The dude up top on the escalator just accepts that this is his situation. It took me two years of reading bullshit Buddhism, Hindu nonsense, the Tao Te Ching, and mindfulness meditation techniques to be able to accept things that were mildly irritating! These people have figured out a way to muddle through life’s worst-case scenarios with horrific humor.
